Against the Darkness
She could not sleep. She would have attributed it to the excitement of their adventure, the danger they faced keeping her alert and on edge even in the peace and safety of their home. But she knew it wasn't that. They had been in danger before and she had slept the sleep of the innocent and righteous, too exhausted and tired to have any lingering worries or cares. Their home, and she smiled knowing that that phrase encompassed Ezekiel and she as well as Neecy and Prissy and the children here and to come, friends now and in the future, was warm and inviting, pleasant and easy. Under Prissy and Neecy's watchful care, it had quickly established a rhythm of its own, a heartbeat that was steady and strong. She had no doubt that the most powerful magic that Neecy and maybe even Throckmorton could summon seeped in, around, and through its walls; the hobbit would guard his own family with the same practical and fierce love that he pursued his dreams and she had no doubt that Neecy would guard her, the twins and Ezekiel with the same fervor. If only to keep the future Baron and Baroness safe for future business opportunities.
She touched the walls of the hallway where she walked as her face lit with the flash of a grin. Neecy loved her and her future children and had developed a grudging like of her husband. The hobbit would protect them because that was the only thing his noble little heart could fathom; the money was a lovely bonus, a necessity that made all their lives wonderful and worry-free. It was the dirtier part of being wealthy, that money must be maintained and tended like a garden. A sickly garden yielded no vegetables and sickly finances would yield no benefits. She was profoundly grateful that Neecy liked to garden and that he was a successful one at that. If he gleaned some lovelies for his family as he gardened, well then, it was he who tended it and helped it to grow amid the assaults of metaphorical weeds and weather.
But her flash of humor was not enough to erase her dark musings, her worries that still clouded her mind. Neecy had caught her quick and terrified glance as they had gotten out of the carriage at the house, understood that she would find him in his butler's study as soon as she could. His little hands had been proper but firm on the rise her her belly, his face serious as he felt for the lingering touch and presence of dark powers with the twins. He had pronounced them and her clean, fussed at her to go find her bed with some weak tea and warm soup. And though she believed him, there were still the lingering fears. She could not feel anything but the innocence and contentment of the two children, the beginnings of their incoherent dreams and sensations of her womb just now beginning to tickle the back of her thoughts. She was almost certain that she had been able to keep the ichor of whatever Rebecca had summoned from them with the help of her spelled stomacher, certain that Neecy would have been able to tell her if she had failed.
But there was still the niggling doubt.
This venture, like a few before, had had the sickly touch of true evil, that ichor of wrong that no bath could wash away, no warmth of fire or liquor could warm, a lingering horror at what had lay beyond when the curtains of reality had ripped away. The mild headache she still nursed kept her memories vivid, the residual phantom ache of power twisted and wrong burning through her body. She had kept it from her children. That was all she needed to know. With Neecy's (and whomever he had enlisted to make her armor) help, the reach of the elder god had been turned from Samuel and Rachel. Her babies were safe. Neecy would make her more armor. Stronger, knowing the hobbit. That and try to force her hand to make her stay home until the children were born and safely under Prissy's and a nursemaid's care. Her footsteps stopped, pausing as she realized part of what made her pace the hallways of the house. Turning, she re-directed her walk towards the guest quarters.
Although she had tried to mute her husband's rare fury at Rebecca, she could not fail to admit to herself that she felt it also. The poor woman had obviously been terrified and confused, but under the onslaught of Ezekiel's sharp words, Rebecca had pulled within herself, upset and hurt. She herself had been too exhausted and horrified at what she had felt to do anything other than to gasp for air and sob in pain; the stomacher had burned her a little as it died under the onslaught of twisted power and her own muscles and mind had been forced to agony as she fought the power tainting the energy she was channeling to heal Evie. She had been too terrified that the children inside and out were harmed, too occupied with that to properly voice her own anger at Rebecca. And in the face of Ezekiel's wrath, her own seemed cruel to add to the woman's distress. She had little anger now that she was fairly assured that her own children were well.
But she also knew without a doubt that she could not sleep tonight until she knew that the child outside her was well also.
She sighed as her feet led her to Evie's door, letting the air out soundlessly as her fingers found the doorhandle. She slid into the room with all the care of a ghost, moving slowly in the moonlight to the child's bed. If Evie heard her, she feigned sleep, her eyes closed and her breathing slow and easy as Katherine knelt by her bed. Carefully, timidly, she put a gentle hand on the cat girl's cheek and another soft sigh escaped her. The other baby was safe. Evie's fur was soft and warm under her hand, her body limp and at rest. She had no doubt Neecy had or would check Evie for any lingering effects from the night's adventure. But she had had to know for herself. She had been the conduit that would have led the Dark God to Evie; it would have destroyed her to know that in healing Evie, she had also opened her to his dark touch. Evie had suffered too much bad in life so far. God-permitting, she would find her life much better now. She watched Evie sleep for a small while, taking comfort in the moment. The catgirl slept quietly under the covers, the bedclothes even and not in disarray as if she tossed and turned under nightmare. She finally smoothed the fur on the girl's forehead and carefully rose to her feet. Not that the girl wouldn't wake in the morning to dreams both dark and horrible. But for now, she slept or feigned it well. Katherine slipped outside again and made her way to her own rooms.
Ezekiel was warm as she slipped into bed with him. He murmured as she pressed into him, his arm slipping around her protectively. She smiled, letting him hold her. By morning they would be at opposite ends of the bed, having rolled apart in sleep. She kissed his closed eyes and felt the warm darkness of slumber began to take her. The babies were safe.
All the babies were safe.
And even if they slept on opposite ends of the bed to the opposite ends of the world, Ezekiel held her as she held him, soul to soul, heart to heart and there wasn't a dark God on this or any other plane that could tear that bond apart. Against the darkness, they would always have one another.
Glædmód gástlufu. Lúcháireach gra. Angan ástir. The words came unbidden to her mind and she smiled as sleep took her. Joyful love.
Yes.
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